Falling Shards
by Seguchi Touma
Summary: (YAOI - 1x4) The GW boys are Preventers... Heero and Quatre are together while Duo and Wufei are as well. When someone starts trying to kill Quatre and Heero, suspicion falls on Trowa, but is it him? 1x4, 2x5
1. Default Chapter

"He was mine, Heero. You had no right to step in and take him. Mister Perfect Soldier couldn't take a single defeat?"  
  
Heero Yuy twisted in his nightmare, the coldly accusing voice of Trowa coming back to haunt him. In his dreams as well as then, he hadn't been able to find the words to explain to the pilot of 03 that Quatre had come to him, not the other way around. That he had been the one to wipe the tears from the Arabian's eyes as he had recounted his numerous attempts to get Trowa to open up to him, to make him feel like something more than a vessel to spill his seed and fears into. Even Heero hadn't known how to explain to Trowa that all he would have done was give a little more attention to Quatre, to treat him like his lover and friend instead of someone to pull close and make his inner demons go away like a teddy bear in a frightened child's hands. Quatre had never been a toy, but a human that needed someone to love him as much as he loved others, even if it had only been while they were alone. Talking never had been one of Heero's big points. That dispute had ended with Trowa walking away from him stiffly, shutting the pilot of 01 as well as the rest out of his life and friendship. The dream didn't go that way.  
  
"I decided I'm taking him back, Heero. The war is over, and I'm taking back what was and is mine."  
  
Hands were touching his face, pressing against his skin. Even in the grip of his nightmare, a hand flailed out to snare up the ever-present gun that sat always on his nightstand. "Omae o Korosu," slid past his lips in a dead voice as it rose and the safety was clicked off.  
  
Quatre sat perfectly still, fear pushing his heart up into his throat. Heero awoke much like he did everything else... suddenly. One breath he could be in a deep sleep and the next, one found themselves staring into completely aware and lucid pits of blue darkness. Dryness made his throat feel like the desert that lay beyond their bedroom window. Keeping his voice in low calming tones much like those he used when talking to his horses that had been spooked, the smaller male spoke quietly. "Hee-chan. It's me, Quatre. You were having a nightmare. It's me."  
  
The endless tunnel of night that was the gun held towards the Arabian jittered as it lowered, the fingers curled tightly about the grip trembling as the weapon was returned to its nightstand edge. Quarte's name was whispered as the other's arms enfolded him, the whipcord muscle beneath the skin still trembling as the man's hands did. Heero tucked his mate against his chest, resting his head atop the soft bed of wispy blonde hair, letting his fingertips wander up to curl within them as well. The thunder of his heart continued to fill his ears, recovering from the nightmare as Quatre soothed him like a child, soft brushings of the other's lips and fingertips echoing across his sweat streaked skin. The horror invoked by the nightmare may have faded, but the message behind it did not. Heero didn't question those instincts; they had kept him alive for too long. "It was Trowa again. He said he was coming for you."  
  
Silence spun between them as Quatre absorbed the words, not questioning or trying to make light of it all to coax a smile from his mate. Even the dispassionate, clipped tone that Heero said them in impacted him on how serious he thought it was. Had another heard those words spoken, they might have dismissed it as the Japanese pilot simply being Heero Perfect Soldier Yuy again. If they had been outside their bedroom, Quatre might have thought the same. Not now. "What do you want to do?"  
  
Curling Quatre to his chest, Heero remained in his thoughtful quietness for a time. For the moment, he just wanted to reassure himself that not all of it had been a dream. Quatre was here and in his arms as well as safe. They had all survived the war and come out intact for the most part, physically, but perhaps not mentally. Mentally, he didn't think that any of them would ever be right. Scars on skin healed. He could prove that. Scars of psyche did not, at least, not as easily. Sliding his eyes closed, he inhaled the scent of the skin beneath his, letting the scents of cinnamon and some other spice he couldn't remember flood across his senses. It was an exotic mixture that he could only identify with one person. "I want to go back to Preventer Headquarters tomorrow. I want us both to go back this time. Rashid can take care of everything here. Besides, if I know Duo and Wufei, they've probably loaded everything on my desk and taken a week off themselves."  
  
Quatre's head rose slightly, seeming to be gazing at a cornre of their shared room in the Winner Estate. All he could see was the now harmless seeming gun on the nightstand. It didn't matter that there were forty or more Maguanacs and the latest (and supposedly best according to the seller) home security system between himself and any sort of danger. Heero believed that he could keep 'Master Quatre' safer than any of them. He had to stop Wufei from telling Heero about these things unless his mate had already read Sun Tzu. Something was wrong on L4, something that wasn't feeling right. He could let things go for a time and see old friends. His sister was as adept at running the company as he was, and nothing said he had to be here to do it. The thought that it would ease Heero's mind was the factor that decided it for him. "We can take the shuttle and leave tomorrow morning. If you can send a comm through and let them all know that we're coming...?"  
  
"Ninmu ryokai," Heero murmured as they slid back down into the silken embrace of their sheets. Within an hour, the breathing of the smaller boy smoothed out to the pace of those lying in Morpheus' arms. The still awake soldier's hand stole out to once more grip the gun within it, gazing out over their bedroom as if the shadows held secrets from him.  
  
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Elsewhere another was wrapped in dreams. Tossing, he had wrapped himself within his own sheets, tangling them about his long form as if they were a lover grasping. A long dead singer's voice provided a soundtrack of sorts as his night visions ran rampant.  
  
Quatre was curled within a bed clad in shades of wine and gold, the two colours playing off of each other in a darkness that was lit only by scattered candles. As if sensing his approach, the golden lashes parted to frame sleepy eyes of a soft aquamarine. Gazing up at him with the innocence of a newly awakened cherub, one small fist rose to rub at his eyes and free them of sleep.  
  
Come into these arms again   
And lay your body down   
There's a modest trembling heart   
That's beating like a drum   
It beats for you, it leaps for you   
It knows not how it sounds   
For it is the drum of drums   
It is the song of songs   
  
Beneath his skin he could feel the soft embrace of Quatre's arms about him, the boy's head seeking shelter beneath his chin like a kitten. The scent of spices washed over him, relief coming in its wake. None of the terrible things that lonliness had done to him had ever happened. It had all been a lie. His angel was here.  
  
Something paralyzed him as Heero stepped out of the shadows, a small dart lodged in his shoulder to tranquilize him. Snatching the Arabian from him with a feral snarl and bundling him against his chest, the cold blue eyes of the other male settled on his own. A smile curved Heero's lips that had to be what a rabbit saw just before the wolf devoured it. He couldn't do anything but stare in overwhelming disbelief, feeling as if his heart were being ripped from him.  
  
Once I had the rarest rose   
That ever came to bloom   
Cruel winter chill the bones   
And stole my flower too soon   
Oh lonliness, oh hopelessness   
To search the end of time   
For there is in all the world   
No greater love than mine.   
  
Lightening crisscrossed the skies as freezing water began to pelt him. Instead of the bedroom of luxury, he was in a barren wasteland. Jagged peaks broke from the earth to reach upwards like fingers towards a sky that didn't care, a sky that swam with shades of Prussian blue. Even the rain that fell on him seemed like a taunting slap.  
  
Still falls the rain   
(Still falls the rain)   
Still falls the night   
You're mine forever   
  
Warmth spilled on him as Quatre appeared beside him, enveloped in a golden light. He truly did look like the angel that he had been compared to often. A slender hand extended towards him, a silent plea within those gemlike eyes for the other to take it and help him, to release him from his captor.   
  
Let me the only one   
To keep you from the cold   
Now the floor of Heaven is laid   
With stars of brightest gold   
They shine for you, they shine for me   
They burn for all to see.   
  
Even as the heat moved over the dreamer's skin, dark arms appeared about Quatre, dimming his light, pulling him away once more. A pair of glowing eyes of stormy blue focused on him, promising him that never again would he find that sort of peace. Eternity alone was his curse.  
  
Come into my arms again   
And set this spirit free.   
  
With those last words lingering in his ears, the dreamer snapped awake. His eyes narrowed to slits, lips peeling back from teeth in an unconscious echo of the one that Heero had displayed in his nightmare. Sliding out of bed, he stalked towards the Vidphone, pausing only to pick up the single picture on the desk. Captured beneath a shield of glass was a smiling Quatre with an equally goofing off Duo. It had been taken during one of their few breaks during the war, the tops of Sandrock and Deathscythe barely visible in the shadows. Setting it down upon the wooden surface with as much care as a priest would take with a holy relic, the boy's fingers danced over the numerical pad as a familiar face filled the screen and came from the speakers. "Lieutenant Noin, Preventer's Headquarters. How can I help you?" 


	2. Chapter Two

As soon as the sun broke over the horizon, Quatre was up and out of bed, getting ready to shift everything that was needed for his journey back to Earth. Cracking open an eye, Heero peered out at his koi darkly, wondering how the other could have this much energy this early. It never crossed his mind that it was most likely because he hadn't sat up most of the night with a gun in hand. Struggling out of the too inviting embrace of the warm bed, he slunk towards the shower to wake up. Heero Yuy was not a morning person.   
  
A pair of arms wrapping about his waist slowed his progress as a chipper voice brushed along his ear, "Ohoya, Hee-chan! Rashid is getting our baggage into the car, and the shuttle is on stand by."  
  
"Hn." Yup, Heero was his normal talkative self.  
  
"Want anything for breakfast?"  
  
"Hn." At least it sounded a bit more awake now.  
  
"Anything specific besides your laptop you want to take with us?"  
  
"Hn." A spray of water erupting in the bathtub accompanied that one.  
  
Quatre paused outside the bathroom door as he watched Heero struggling to wake up enough to get the water temperature adjusted without freezing or scalding himself. An impish grin settled on his lips as he questioned once more, never losing the innocent tones of his voice, "Want someone to scrub your back and ... the rest of you?"  
  
Dear Allah... he still couldn't say that without blushing to the roots of his blonde hair.  
  
A sleep fuzzed dark blue eye peered at Quatre from behind the door, narrowing at him with a growl. Another noncommittal grunt accompanied it as Heero settled himself in the shower, a yawn breaking free of him. Mornings were hideous since the war. In that time, he could have been the first one awake and the last one to sleep. A smirk overtook his expression, considering his mate to be the reason for that. During most of the war, he'd purposely kept the Arabian at an arm's length even when they were curled together. Either of them could have died the next morning, the next night, the next hour... Now, he was slowly losing that fear, washed it away in the balm of Quatre's company. He was learning how to love.  
  
A giggle came from just beyond the shower curtain as the male who was occupying his thoughts peeked in at him, sizing him up with a sizzling slow toe to head examination. Heero fought the grin that wanted to surface as he watched the other boy's blush deepening. Even when they were teasing each other like this, Quatre maintained that air of innocence that drove him to exasperation at times, to a love that was nearly crushing with its power at others. Sweet lips pursed into a smile as the blonde winked up at him. "Just checking to see if you needed help with anything, koi."  
  
Heero may have had no war to fight, but his physical condition had slipped none. With a deceptively sleepy yawn, his body moved with a speed that was spooky. Arms shot out to grasp Quatre, ignoring the squeaked out protests as he dragged him into the shower with him... clothes and all. Ineffectual baps of the other's fists rained on his arms as he tightened them, resting his chin atop the golden locks of hair. "No. Just needed something to use as a headrest. Thanks for volunteering."  
  
An outraged string of Arabic followed that as Heero merely adjusted his grip to pull the other boy more into the water, soaking him completely. Revenge for being too happy in the mornings was a beautiful thing. "Such language. I'm going to have to stop Abdul from teaching you that. Sunglasses wearing baka."  
  
Quatre sighed as he flipped a soaked lock of his hair out of his eyes, grumbling under his breath. His clothes were plastered to him now thanks to his koibito's trick. He should have never forgotten that much like a sleepy looking feline, Heero could move like the wind. Folding his now freed arms over his chest, he stood silently... dripping.  
  
The arms that had been keeping him captive slid around the Arabian's waist even as the body they were attached to shook with silent laughter. Duo had once sent Heero a snapshot of Quatre in a furious mood with one cut from am ancient child's book called 'Winnie the Pooh' featuring a character named Piglet with nearly the same expression. Ever since then, that was the mental image he got whenever his koi showed anger. Knowing that this was going to be a long... very long... shuttle ride with Quatre this upset with him, Heero's fingertips rose to stroke against the waterlogged surface of his mate's silk shirt. A soft whimper encouraged him as those questing fingers found the rapidly hardening nipples, tracing small circles about them. The Japanese boy's head lowered, lips pressing against the pale throat beneath him, suckling the water from it hungrily even as his hand lowered. Fingers splayed open, he pressed Quatre's body into his own, sliding down to rest on the other's groin, his own hips pressing tightly against the khaki clad flesh.  
  
Quatre's back arched with a whisper of a moan, rolling his hips with the other's ministrations. The heat that had lay simmering beneath his skin at watching his mate was rising, enveloping in a manner that simple lust couldn't explain. The first time that they had been together, Quatre had been nearly fearful, knowing the power that lay within the frame of his would be lover. It had began simply enough, the Arabian seeking out Heero to talk. The other pilots would never have suspected that Wing's could be a quietly honest person, seeing him only as the Perfect Soldier. This hadn't been the first time he'd sought Heero out, having been given the same advice that the boy gave Trowa... follow your emotions. The next suggestion had been not to expect or force Trowa to show him anything in public, focusing more on when they were behind closed doors. The Japanese boy had understood all too well that some people, like him, were unable to show an emotion in front of others that could be taken as a weakness. Too many failed attempts had pushed Quatre into despair. Trowa would listen to anything he had to say, but on his own feelings, thoughts, and ideas, he kept his silence. Any attempt to question or learn was cut off with lovemaking. It had become more of a way to avoid things than a union of their souls. It cheapened the act in Quatre's eyes, leading to arguments and cold nights on both sides. Crying on Heero's bed, it had just... happened.  
  
Brought back to the present by the sound of his own zipper sliding down and buttons being popped off his shirt one by one, Quatre managed a growl at his koibito through his panting, "You already owe me three shirts. What is it with you and your inability to unbutton a shirt?"  
  
"Start wearing pullovers," was the only suggestion he received in reply.  
  
The crash of the bathroom door being thrown open startled both of them as the shower curtain was jerked aside and the sunglass-covered visage of Abdul grinned at them. That grin lasted for roughly three seconds, enough time for the Maguanac to realize just -what- he had interrupted and hear the muttered 'Omae o Korosu' from Heero. "Quatre-sama! Heero-sama... uhhh... Rashid made me do it! He said it was time to go!"  
  
Dodging a thrown bottle of shampoo, Abdul beat a hasty retreat, his laughter ringing behind him.  
  
Giggling softly, the hilarity of the whole situation finally hit Quatre. Tears began to stream down his face as he glanced over his shoulder and a narrow eyed Heero that didn't look overly happy at being denied his morning ritual. "We do have to get going if you want to get to the Preventers before Duo talks Wufei into taking the day off."  
  
Heero merely glared at him in mock anger as he reached a hand for the faucet knob, the arm still wrapped about Quatre tightening. Freezing cold water sluiced over them a bare second later. Quatre's shrieks filled the room as Heero snickered. "You did say we had to get going, koi."  
  
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Ten minutes later, the pair emerged from the mansion, once more in what Quatre termed their 'public selves'. Heero might as well have been the bodyguard he was often thought of being for all the affection he showed the other. Quatre himself seemed focused on business, getting things settled here before they left. A sizzling in the air captured Heero's attention, snapping him out of the blankness he kept as Abdul nudged him and continued to prattle on while Quatre spoke to Rashid. For him, the next moments happened in a hideous slow motion.  
  
The initial implosion shook the Winner house, Heero's feet moving before the sound had fully registered for what it was with his consciousness. The Perfect Soldier in action. Diving, he snared Quatre to his chest, rolling and wrapping himself over the smaller boy as the second bomb exploded. Instead of it being an internal and mostly harmless bomb, this one's force went outwards, fire and glass showering down on them. Beneath him, he could hear and feel Quatre struggling with him, something he refused to be moved on, covering the smaller form with him own and keeping him forced to the ground. Shouts rang out from behind them, Maguanacs swarming in all direction bearing guns that they seemed to pull from nowhere. Abdul and Rashid pulled the two of them up, abrasions littering Heero's backside from where thrown glass had sliced through his clothing. Aware that they were being pushed towards the waiting car, Heero planted his feet, gathering Quatre tightly into his arms as he shook his head. "Check the car first. I'm not putting him in there without knowing."  
  
Abdul nodded once, not bothering to ask for an explanation at hearing the dead tones of Heero's voice. The vehicle was nearly pulled apart as bodies moved over it, checking anywhere an explosive might have been hidden. A call came up from one as he stepped back, growling something in Arabic as he pointed to the underneath of the car, gesturing everyone back. They had nearly stepped into a deathtrap.  
  
Rashid's voice slid across Heero and Quatre's ears in a solemn mutter. "It was Master Quatre's room. Beneath the bed and in the closet."  
  
Both of them bore similar expressions of anger and wonderment. They had to have been timed explosives, otherwise they would have gone off with the slipped in or out of bed. The same with the closet. A tripped one would have gone off when Quatre had opened the door to get their clothes. The already blank mask of Heero's face tightened at that thought. Quatre was the one who ended up taking command, something few would have attributed to the boy's delicate seeming. His mate wasn't taken off guard. The Arabian had been the one who had destroyed an entire colony, commanded a group as fierce as the Maguanacs, designed Wing, and a Gundam pilot, not to mention their strategist. The ZERO system was a thought he quickly shut away. It was a fool that thought he was a simpering wimp. "Bring Heero's bike around and have the Maguanacs at the shuttle bay sweep my shuttle. I don't want anyone but those I know I can trust looking for anything that strikes them as off-key. Whoever is onboard as crew, kick them off. Heero and I can handle getting us to Earth. Have the Estate evacuated immediately and teams sweep it for anything that can tell us who did this."  
  
Rashid nodded, moving off to comply. Quatre's cherubic face hardened into his own scowl of upset at his rooms and nearly his car destroyed. If Heero hadn't thought to check it in the confusion... Shaking his head, he put that out of his mind. How the two of them meshed talent-wise was one of their strengths, a strength that might have saved their lives this time. The two of them didn't touch beyond Heero's restraining hand on Quatre's shoulder; all that they felt didn't need to be expressed out loud. Quatre's fingers brushed his koi's briefly as Heero stepped away to investigate the motorcycle. Finding it clean, he pulled Quatre onto it before him, shielding the boy's back with his own front. It was standard procedure for preventing what could be an assassination, and Heero had no problems with putting his life on the line for the other. With a roar of the bike's engine, they were gone.  
  
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Slow footsteps announced the lanky male's arrival in the room as Noin glanced up from her paperwork. A pleased smile spread over her lips as she rose to her feet, offering the boy her hand. "Trowa! Good to see you again. How was L4?"  
Trowa Barton's usual reserved manner was in place as he allowed her to take his hand, a nod answering her questions. "It was an experience as always." 


	3. Chapter Three

Heero stalked through the halls of Preventer's Headquarters. Within his mind, thoughts whirled and spun in their own paths, going ignored for the most part. It was an old trick that he had learned long ago. Most of what he thought, heard, or saw filtered through as white noise, keeping part of his mind occupied while the rest could focus on whatever he had concerning him. Settling down behind his neglected desk, his eyes climbed the mountain of paperwork that had been left to rest there. A sigh worked free of him as he resisted the urge to merely sweep it all off and into the garbage chute. Duo and Wufei might have actually done work while he was taking a break on L4, but damn if they didn't just dump all of the paperwork here.  
  
It was with little surprise that he noticed a pair of excruciatingly happy violet eyes peeking at him over the highest pile. "Heero! Welcome back! Ummm... you know how terrible I am with the hunt and peck method of typing, and Wuffie says that it's unjust able or something for a man to do a woman's job of typing, so..."  
  
The blank eyes staring back at him gave Duo Maxwell the impression that everything he was saying was going unheard or that he wasn't going to be able to talk the former pilot of 01 into doing all of his paperwork. Working the stack of papers and folders over to sit himself on the edge of the desk, Duo folded his arms, waiting for his presence to be acknowledged.  
  
"Get all of this off of my desk. Now. You and Wufei are perfectly capable of typing up reports."  
  
Duo's shoulder's drooped as a pair of puppy dogged eyes tried to talk Heero into being a good sport and doing it all instead. Raising a brow, Heero settled back for what looked to be a long staring contest. Being around Quatre all this time and seeing that exact same look whenever the blonde put his stubborn mind to something have given him more than enough resistance to it all coming from the braided baka before him. At least he had patience over the other.  
  
A growl was all the hint Duo gave that he had been beaten as he started gathering up the boxes and folders. Eyeing the ever so unhelpful Heero as he began moving them, his chatter picked up once more, something that any of them were used to. "So how was L4? Any sandstorms or harem raids? Did you see Trowa while you were there?"  
  
All that Duo felt was a quick sense of dread and a whisper of air across his back as he found Heero standing next to him. The deep wells of Prussian blue staring at him. There was something there that he didn't like, that same deadly intensity that he had seen too often when the other was about to set off on a mission or was considering self-destruction. Taking a step back from the other boy, he swallowed nervously. "Ummm... Heero?"  
  
Heero leaned back against the doorway in a manner that would have seemed casual if Duo hadn't seen his eyes already. A hand wound out to shut his office door as that gaze once more captured the other pilot within it. "Why would I have seen Trowa on L4?"  
  
The confusion that clouded over Duo's face was enough to set some of Heero's inner turmoil at ease. The other was clueless about what he was saying, no reason for hiding anything. Berating himself mentally for even thinking that he couldn't trust Duo of all people, Heero's fingertips rubbed against his temple, trying for a more reasonable tone. "Things have been going on, Duo. A part of Quatre and my's home was blown up this morning and another bomb was found on his car, one that we almost stepped right into..."   
  
Heero's words slowed to a pause, not knowing how to continue. Asking for others for help or explaining his motives on anything had never been and would never be his style, especially with his inner suspicions that Trowa might be bound up on it. How does one justify an accusation based on instinct and dreams? "I think Trowa might have had something to do with it. I wasn't aware he was on L4 and neither was Quatre."  
  
Duo sat down heavily on the chair opposite Heero's desk, the paperwork slipping through numb fingers. Someone try to hurt Quatre of all people? That thought was like a barb of ice being shoved into his heart. It was funny in a morbid manner that after so long he could easily accept someone trying to kill himself or the others, but Quatre? "He said that he was with the circus again. I assumed when he was telling us about being on L4 for the past couple of weeks that he had been there with them. Trowa told me and Wufei that he hadn't left Catherine's side while he was on vacation."  
  
That hardness returned to the Japanese pilot's face, as he remained expressionless. Behind that mask, the mind of the boy who had become OZ's worst enemy had churned into gear. "The circus wasn't on L4, Duo. I checked. They've been traveling around, but they're not scheduled to be on L4 until the week after next. Did he tell you that he was specifically on L4? What his purpose was while there? Why didn't he contact Quatre?"  
  
The other boy winced inwardly at Heero's deadpan tone. Rapid-fire questions were launched at him, an old interrogation tactic. Rising up from the papers drifted about his feet, he laid his hands on Heero's shoulders, staring him in the eyes. When no tugging away or glaring began, Duo had a faint sense of relief as well as a thanks sent to whatever god sent Quatre to Heero. If he had tried this before the blonde had entered the Perfect Soldier's life, he probably would have found himself staring down the barrel of a gun or knocked backwards and away. "I'm your friend, Heero. I used to be your lover. If, and I do mean 'if', Trowa is behind this, then I will do anything I can to help you. Wufei too. Quatre is very dear to me as well, and I won't let him be hurt anymore than you will. Don't treat me like the enemy, Heero. Ask me, and I will help, but don't demand and shut me out. Tell me the whole story."  
  
A bitter hint of a smile touched on Heero's lips. "Gomen nasai, Duo-chan. I... fall back into my habits. I've been dreaming about Trowa lately and had to get Quatre off of L4. It was... like one of those traps that OZ would set, and we knew we were being set up. I had to go, and I talked him into going."  
  
It took more strength than Heero would ever know for Duo not to roll his eyes at that one. Anyone who had seen Heero and Quatre knew that the Arabian had his koibito wrapped tightly around his little finger. Even Duo knew it was more that the Japanese boy probably asked him and the other agreed than how it was sounding of Heero dragging the other off the colony. "And then the bombs?"  
  
Heero nodded silently, his mind working on the information given so far. "Now you tell me that Trowa admits to being there and saying he was with the circus, yet I know and the records will show that the circus wasn't there."  
A frown took over Duo's usually smiling lips as he pushed open Heero's door, moving out of it and into the mainroom. His voice pitched to a low whisper as he tugged the other boy to follow him. "Which means he may have lied to us as well. Let's go ask him."  
  
A tight nod answered Duo as the two of them wove between the others working steadily. Heero had missed this, a sense of doing something other than watching his lover work while he sat around toying with old logs and reviewing cases that he had no hand in solving or completing. Following in Duo's wake, he slipped into Wufei's office, staying near the door with his face still a mask.  
  
Wufei rose with a catlike grace to greet Heero, a silent conversation held between him and Duo, one that sprang from time around each other rather than telepathy or any psychic power. They could just read each other's eyes. Worry and the beginnings of anger held tightly restrained were dwelling in the purple fields of Duo's while a stoic concern overtook the pools of ebony that were Wufei's. A silent asking of what was wrong met with andI'll tell you later' look.   
  
Emerald joined in as Trowa glanced up from what he and Wufei had been looking over, focusing first on Duo with a nod to freeze on Heero's. The temperature in the room felt as if it had grown colder, tension starting to creep through the air as the tall form rose, hands folded before him. "Konnichiwa, Duo... Heero."  
  
The self-proclaimed god of death tried for a smile as he dropped into a chair that he dragged over to maximum cuddling of his partner. Wufei's eyes narrowed as he grumbled, referring to Duo in an undertone with something to do with an 'onna' and other insults even as he let his arm be latched onto. Heero remained standing, not returning or even acknowledging the greeting. Shaking his head, it was Duo that broke the silence, wishing like Hell that Quatre were here. He had always been the peacemaker, not any of them. "Tro-man? What were you doing on L4 since the circus wasn't there?"  
  
Heero would have cheerily tossed the braided baka out the window if he could have gotten away with it. Wufei merely blinked, his surprise hidden under a mask of neutrality. Trowa's eyes narrowed to catlike slits as they turned onto Heero, knowing full well where this was coming from. The Japanese pilot merely stared back at him blankly, waiting for an answer. "I don't believe that I said that the circus wasn't there, Duo," he began quietly.  
  
"Quatre was nearly killed this morning when a bomb went off under his bed. The job was almost finished when we got ready to load him into a car that had another under it," Heero cut his off quietly, his voice dead and as calm as if he were discussing the weather instead of an attempted assassination of his lover.  
  
The shock in Trowa's eyes couldn't have been faked. All the colour ran out of his face, leaving behind the translucent visage of a man about to faint. Getting to his feet, his entire body swayed as if he were about to pass out, Wufei's arm seizing one of Trowa's arms to steady him and try to get him to sit back down. Green eyes kept blinking as if he were still trying to make those words reality to him, that Quatre's life had nearly been ended by an explosion. Grasping the edge of Wufei's desk, he finally snarled at Heero. "Quatre nearly dies, and you stand here telling us it as if it were just another day? Where the fuck is he, Heero? Why aren't you taking care of him? How bad is he? Is he conscious? What the fuck happened and why weren't you watching over him?"  
  
Duo's jaw dropped. Trowa had never been the sort to either talk much or curse, and he had just done both. Heero had to be wrong. "He's all right, Tro-man. Heero exaggerated a little..." The American's voice trailed off as not only Trowa, but also Wufei shot him twin glares.  
  
The Japanese boy leaning against the door never changed expression as he crossed one ankle over the other. "You haven't answered my question. What were you doing on L4 when you told Duo that you were with Catherine?"  
  
The arm beneath Wufei's hand was there and then gone the next instant. Trowa had already seized Heero and slammed him into the wall, Heero's hands digging into the other's shoulders as if to snap the collarbones if he was pressed further. Trowa's angered visage drew closer to the Japanese's face, his visage twisting into a creature of fury that none of them had ever encountered before. "I -said- I was with Catherine the entire time, not the circus. Catherine is suffering from a lung disease. She's dying. The doctors thought that the arid climate of L4 might be better for her than here. I took her there myself and never contacted anyone because she didn't want anyone to know and pity her. You're the stupidest bastard in the world if you think I would ever hurt Quatre, Heero Yuy."  
  
Releasing Heero, Trowa's eyes flicked over the other two before he stepped out, head lowered as his arms wrapped about himself, leaving hurt and them behind.  
  
"Trowa... cursed." Duo was still in shock.  
  
It was Wufei that finally came to glance over Heero even though the boy was dusting himself off and staring at the retreating Trowa's back. "Are you all right, Heero?"  
  
A nod answered him as well as the usual deadpan tones. "He's lying, Wufei. I don't know about what, but he's lying."  
  
------------  
  
A Vidphone turned on as a rat like man peered at the caller and grinned, displaying a set of blackened and rotting teeth. "Boss! What's wrong? You look kinda pissed."  
  
Without explaining, long fingers wrapped about what looked to be a black cylinder with a button atop it, held just out of sight of the person being displayed on the screen. "What happened with the Winner bombing? You were supposed to have gotten the Japanese male. Intelligence said that he slept in during the mornings and dressed later than the other."  
  
The ratty man shrugged. "Dunno, Boss. It went off when it was supposed to. The first one to kill whoever was still in bed and blow the bed frame out to keep the door from being opened, then the second blew up and out to destroy that entire room with debris and fire. Something happened that got 'dem outta bed early."  
  
"I see."  
  
"So do you want us ta try again, Boss?"  
  
"I don't believe that will be necessary. I'll be taking matters into my own hands."  
  
"So what do you want me to do then?"  
  
The button atop the detonator was pressed, the link via the screen cut off as the entire building from which the rodent like servant had been calling destroyed in a blaze of fire. The hand still gripping the detonator rose prop up a chin. "If you want something done right, do it yourself."  
  
-------------  
(TBC)  
------------- 


	4. Chapter Four

"I don't know, Catherine. We were walking out to the car, and the next thing I knew there was fire raining all around us, and Heero had me thrown down on the ground," Quatre began, glancing up to his dining companion for the afternoon.  
  
Quatre had finished up the last of the rollover statements and found himself bored, pacing the hotel suite that he and his koibito had gotten to use until the Winner mansion here could be readied for them. Going to the Preventers wasn't something he wanted to do, not with the feeling of dread that touched him every time he thought of it. Much like Heero, he'd learned to trust his emotions by this time. Something told him that things were going on there that it was better for him to stay out of and just trust Heero on.   
  
Catherine's call had come as a surprise to him. That needle of worry about Trowa had swept over him at first hearing her voice and seeing her face; afraid that the blade had finally ended up in the green-eyed boy instead of the plank he stood against for their act. Keeping his carefree mask in place, he had greeted her happily. The suggestion for a lunch was more than welcome once he had assured himself that nothing had happened. Chiding himself for worrying about his ex-lover still, he managed a smile for Catherine's sake. Worrying another with his problems was the last thing he wanted to do. Now they were here, in the Gotham Cafe`, for lunch.  
  
Catherine pushed her food about her plate more than eating it, listening to Quatre's story with a worried frown on her face. Her face, made delicate by sickness, lit up with a thought. "Quatre, why don't you come stay with us? At the circus? I'm sure whatever or whoever is doing this will get caught by Heero, but you're in danger too. You could come stay with me and Trowa for awhile!"  
  
A muted laugh escaped the Arabian as his fingertips touched on Catherine's, a gentle smile alighting his lips. "I'm safe enough with Heero. I was a Gundam pilot. I know all too well how frail I look, but trust me, after being thrown around Sandrock's cockpit, I can take a lot before I break. Besides, I wouldn't know what to do at the circus. I'd be just as much in the way there as I might be here. At least here, I can know that Heero is safe."  
  
Nodding quietly, Catherine sighed softly. "Quatre... have you ... if something happened to Heero... would you go back to Trowa? You know he still loves you. He never stopped. I know you still love him too. I can see it in your eyes."  
That question stopped Quatre's laughter cold, a small frown covering the area where his smile had been. "I don't know, Catherine. If something ever happened to Heero, I wouldn't know what to do or if I could even go on. He's a part of me, and I'm a part of him."  
  
The woman's face tightened as she stood up, coughing quietly into her napkin. "I need some air. Excuse me."  
  
Sighing softly, Quatre's shoulder slumped in defeat. Catherine had always taken anything to do with her 'brother' very seriously. Whatever was sickening her, he had a feeling he had just made worse. Watching her stumble out the door, his gaze fell down to the pristine whiteness of the napkin... whiteness now marred by splattering of blood. Pulling a handful of yen from his pocket, he dropped them onto the tabletop, more than enough to cover their bill. Rising from his chair, he ran after her.  
  
--------------------------------  
  
Wufei sighed heavily to himself as he cast his ebony gaze over both Duo and Heero, having the creeping suspicion that he had just been set up. Snaring up the tail of Duo's braid in one hand over the owner's loud protests, he opened the door and glared up at Heero. "We've insulted him. He is a friend, a comrade in battle. We will now go apologize. It's the honourable and just thing to do."  
  
Both Heero and Duo returned that glare, neither of them being one to like to eat their own pride. There was no fighting with the Chinese boy when he was right though. Heero stepped out first, searching for Trowa as Wufei continued to drag his lover along behind him when the braided boy tried to lag and possibly get out of it. They eventually found him out back of the building, the sad clown's eyes fixed upon the sky. Silence sat heavily between them all, something that Heero broke finally. "Gomen nasai, Trowa-kun. I had no right to accuse you of anything."  
  
Trowa never turned to regard them, his gaze still watching the clouds roll by even as Wufei and Duo added their apologies in. For a time, they thought he was merely ignoring them, too angry to speak. Turning to leave, his tired words halted them all. "Heero, if someone tried to hurt Wufei, would you like Duo or myself to say that you were behind it all just because you were his lover at one time and had the motive? Part of you probably still cares for Duo, so why shouldn't you murder Wufei to have Duo or go one step further and kill them both because you were the one who ended up being pushed out."  
  
It took a small time for that to sink into all three of them, especially Heero. Lifting his head, the Prussian blue clashed with emerald. "I would feel that my friends were turning against me unjustly."  
  
A short nod answered him, Trowa finally facing them. "And it would hurt, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Hn."  
  
"Why was I on L4? Catherine wanted to go there. The doctor had mentioned the climate would be better for her, enabling her to breathe better, but she wanted to go. While we were there, she kept talking about how Quatre and I were together, how happy we were then. She never did understand that I made Quatre miserable because I couldn't talk about anything then. Not my past and not the future. As far as we knew, none of us had a future but to die for our missions. I changed, but it was too late. He was already with you, Heero, and I... I accepted that. He's happy. That's what I want."  
  
Rain began to fall on them, beginning as a wetting mist as it built in intensity. Heero's eyes never moved off of the other boy even as droplets clung to his eyelashes. Trowa had loved Quatre and did still. His own suspicions came crashing down on him, leaving him without a clue on who was really behind all of this. He felt Duo and Wufei brush past him, the violet haired boy wrapping his arms about Trowa's shoulders with Wufei following his action after a hesitant moment. "You've still got us, Tro-man," Duo murmured.  
  
With water plastering his hair down, Heero watched them, fighting that old urge to be the Perfect Soldier and need no one. It was that resistance that Duo had begun to break down and Quatre had beaten. Stepping forward, he joined in the group embrace, letting himself be human for a time. "You'll always have us, Trowa."  
  
Even with rain pelting them, the four stood there for a time, wrapped in each other's arms, human tears mixing with those from heaven.  
  
----------------------------------  
  
"Catherine!"  
  
Catching up to her side, Quatre slowed to a halt, trying to shield himself some from the rain with his jacket. She had stopped at the side alley of the cafe`, leaning against the wall and coughing. "Catherine?" he asked, touching a hand to her arm.  
  
A gun was pressed against his side a bare second later, the woman's face turning up to his, eyes blazing with fury. His mind fumbled to comprehend, to understand that Catherine of all people had a gun trained on him. "Why?" he asked.  
  
"Because I won't leave Trowa alone and miserable when I'm dead. You're the only thing that even brings a smile back to his face, so you're going to do just that. Start walking. My car is the dark purple one right there."  
  
Turning his back to her, Quatre started moving, mind still reeling with the shock of it all. *At least she didn't get Heero* was his only thought. 


	5. Chapter Five

Sat in the driver's seat of Catherine's car, Quatre's mind continued to whirl and spin, trying to grasp the line of madness that he had been tossed in. Slim fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, whitening his knuckles. He was a trained Gundam pilot, one of the five most wanted men in all of outer space at one time. He didn't feel it right now. Options were slim at best. He could strike out at Cathrine, but then he took the chance of driving them both straight off the road and perhaps the gun going off against his side. Pressed against his lung, it would be his bad luck that the bullet might stray upwards to his heart. Option two was to simply go along with it for now. The second choice was looking better all the time, especially as Catherine prodded his side with the cold barrel of the gun.  
  
"You never even gave a second thought to my poor Trowa, did you?" she asked him, every other word punctuated with another poke of her gun to his ribs. "You just abandoned him like a puppy that you didn't want anymore. It couldn't have been that the great Winner heir couldn't have a male lover because I see you all the time on the news with that other one. Trowa really loved you, and you just threw him aside. Did you at least wait a decent amount of time before jumping into Heero's bed, or were you with both at the same time?"  
  
Quatre could only blink for a moment as he assimilated all that she spat at him. None of it made sense. He had begged, pleaded, cried, and asked Trowa more times than he could remember to just talk to him, open up that shell for a little while. He hadn't been with both of them at the same time! "Catherine... I... I don't know what you mean. Trowa and I parted ways long before Heero came into my life again. It wasn't that way at all."  
  
The gun snapped up, the circle of the muzzle pressed tightly against Quatre's cheekbone. If she pulled the trigger, they'd be mopping his brains out of the car's upholstery for the next few months. "Don't tell me how it was, Quatre. You all think I'm just some pretty face that ran a circus, but that's not true. I knew when you came back long ago that you would drag Trowa from the safety of my arms back into the war raging in space. I let you do it, thinking that you would take care of him, love him. If he went to you, not even knowing who you were, then he had to love you. He was willing to give his life for you, just to stop your Heero from killing you when you were trying to destroy that colony. And you just left him! But we're going to make that better, Quatre. We're going to make that all better. Pull around the back of that dark blue tent over there. It won't do you any good to make noise when we step out of this car. I've given everyone the day off, and if you did bring someone to help you by screaming, I'd just have to shoot them too. Lions and tigers eat a lot of meat, Quatre. Keep that in mind."  
  
Stepping out of the car as directed, Quatre maintained his silence. She was just insane enough to hurt anyone he might warn, and the Arabian wasn't prepared to have an innocent's death on his conscious. He'd stained his hands with enough blood during the wars. A poke of the gun guided him into the tent, the entire thing empty except for a coffin-like crate on the floor. Eyeing it, real fear began to nibble at him.  
  
Catherine had prepared this place well, somehow suspecting that this might be the only course of action left to her. Heero was just too damned hard to kill. If he had been good and just died, then none of this would have been necessary. He would be dead, and Trowa could have been there to comfort Quatre. Things would have gone on their natural course then. But no, Heero had to make this difficult. This might be better anyways. Trowa's birthday was in a week. By then, they could be far away, on another colony. The thought of his expression when he opened -this- birthday present brought a grin to Catherine's face.   
  
A syringe prepared earlier was taken from the pocket in the canvas tent where she had left it. While the golden haired boy was busy staring in surprise at his new home, she plunged it into his neck, emptying the contents. Even his slight weight as he fell was hard for her to manage being as sick as what she was. The boy was pushed into the crate, a blanket wrapped about him. One of the warnings of the sedative had been that it lowered body temperature. It just wouldn't do to have a Quatre-cicle when they moved him. Gazing down at the sleeping cherubic face, Catherine's fingers stroked his face gently, drawing back the silken curls. "I always thought I would make a good sister-in-law for you."  
  
****************  
  
The other Gundam pilots sat in a half circle about one of the Preventer computers, tracing back through the lines of what all had happened to Heero and Quatre. It was frustrating and unrewarding work, none of the incidents leaving behind many clues for them to track. Even Wufei was starting to show signs of upset, his delicate mouth tugging into a frown. The shrill tones of Heero's cellular broke their concentration. "Moshi moshi," Heero muttered into it.  
  
"Yuu-san, this is Hiroshi Sakura. I own the Gotham Cafe` that you and Winner-sama grace with your presence. I just wanted to call and let you know that Winner-sama left his wallet and phone here earlier when he was having lunch with his lady friend, Catherine. She's such a delight in the circus. Her act is my children's favourite. I didn't want him to think it had been stolen or lost."  
  
"Arigato, Hiroshi-san. Think you can reserve a table for six people around eight tonight? I know it's short notice..."  
  
"For you, nothing is a problem. I will see you then, Yuu-san."  
  
Closing his phone, Heero frowned to himself. A female? It couldn't have been one of Quatre's sisters. Sakura knew them all. Couldn't have been a business lunch either. Shifting his attentions to Trowa, he nibbled his lip softly in thought. "Trowa? Catherine did come back with you, ne? I just got a call that Quatre left his wallet where they had lunch. Can you give her a call and ask if he's with her so he can pick it up?"  
  
Trowa's shoulders rolled in a shrug as he rang her up, an inquisitive look on his face at the vauge upset in Heero's face. When her voice answered on the other end, his own concern showed through. His sister's voice sounded weaker than before, more frail as she gasped for breath. "Catherine? Are you all right?"  
  
"Hai, I was just moving somethings from my tent, Trowa. Are you coming home? I think it might be best if we went back to L4. It's harder for me to breathe here..."  
  
The Latino pilot paused before answering, warring thoughts registering in his mind. Her voice sounded wrong. This was the woman he spent more time with and around than any other. When she lied, her tone rose. He could almost see her playing with her hair as she did on the few occasions she tried to slip one past him. All of the tents had been taken down last night. Trowa had overseen it himself. None should have been standing for her to move anything out of. Straining for a jovial air, he laughed softly, "If you want, we can head back. We can't find Quatre though, and since we were back in town, I thought maybe he had dropped by the circus. Have you seen him?"  
  
"No shoutei. I haven't seen Quatre since last time we were here, and he and the others came to the show. Gomen."  
  
"All right. I'll be heading back soon, and we can start moving out. Just go lay down, okay?"  
  
"Hai! See you then!"  
  
Tapping the phone against his knee, Trowa's whole body felt sick down to his soul. She was lying on more than one count. She knew where Quatre was. Old conversations kept ringing in the halls of his memory, reminding him of times when she'd ask him if it wouldn't be better if Heero were dead and Quatre were back with him or if there was a chance that Quatre would leave Heero to come be with them. She'd always teased that he'd make sure a cute clown. "Oh Kami-sama... it's her. It's Catherine, Heero. We were in those places when it happened, but it wasn't me. She gets delusional at times. She says she hasn't seen him since last you all were at the circus."  
  
All of them started for their vehicles, feeling the sands of time running out for them even as back at the circus, Catherine finished driving the last nails into the crate that held Quatre's body. 


	6. Chapter Six

Using an airlift, Catherine slid the coffin crate in with the others they were preparing to move. Exhaustion nipped at like a hungry dog, making her want to just lay down and rest. There simply wasn't time now. Never enough time. Soon this would all be over, and she could be back on L4. Trowa might protest at first, but he would see the genius of her plans when Quatre was laid in his arms. Then, she could relax in the warm sunlight of L4 with Quatre and Trowa, laughing over this whole foolish mess. They would be a family. They would be happy.   
  
The fact that Quatre would lay sealed in an airless coffin for another week before they reached L4 was lost on her, never registering with her fevered mind. No food, no water, no air beyond what was in there. He would never make it.  
  
Cutting down the last lines of the tent to fold it away with all the others, another coughing fit wracked her too thin body. Flecks of crimson dotted her hands and lips, lungs refusing to take in air as they should. Falling to her knees, more blood slipped from her lips, beginning to form a small puddle on the ground. Anger stirred to life within her, so close to reaching her goal to be struck down by sickness. The roar of car engines and then pounding feet came to her ears as everything began to spin down a dark tunnel. Falling to her side, her eyes rolled up to see Trowa holding her, brushing back the hair from her face gently. He was saying something, but he sounded distant, words barely caught with the loud thrumming in her ears. "What?"  
  
So much blood. Crimson laid over Catherine's face, staining her mouth like obscene lipstick. Tears tried to cloud his eyes as he wiped at it, wanting to deny its existance. "Where is Quatre? What have you done to him?"  
  
A beautific smile ran over the dying woman's lips as a trembling hand rose to stroke Trowa's face. Her voice was choked, rills of her over lifeblood coming up with each words. Glazy eyes strained to keep focused on her dear brother's. "Birthday present. Be all together on L4. Happy and together. All of us..."  
  
Even as the last syllable left her lips, the light faded out of her eyes, leaving them dusty and dull marbled as death crept across and stole the life within. The body held i Trowa's arms slowly relaxed, all muscles releasing the tension that her disease had ravaged her with. Trowa's eyes slid closed as he gathered her closer to him, silent tears creeping into his eyes to soak into the fabric of her shirt. She had been a sick woman, not in control of herself. This wasn't the sister he had so dearly loved, not the one who had bandaged his scrapes when he was younger. Pulling off his jacket, he wrapped it around her body, emerald eyes still shattered as losing her swept across his psyche.  
  
Heero's hand was the first to touch Trowa's shoulder. He pitied Trowa for losing his only family, but Quatre still burned in his mind. A darker part of him was glad Catherine was dead. It saved Heero from having to execute her himself. Just as no one had seen his Gundam and lived, no one hurt his lover and lived. Glancing into the inky pools of Wufei's eyes, he was vaugely surprised to see the expression that lingered there as well as he small nod the Chinese youth gave him. Justice had been done.  
  
Duo helped Trowa to his feet, grasping the taller male in a tight embrace. "It's okay, Tro-man. We're here..."  
  
Heero nodded slowly, his Prussian blue eyes bearing the same remote distance as they always held for the rest of humanity even as a hand rested on Trowa's shoulder. For a bare instant, that twilight sky stained gaze broke, showing a hint of caring beneath before resuming their icy seeming. "Trowa... Quatre..." he began softly.  
  
Trowa rose slowly, his fingers sliding down Catherine's face to close her eyes, drawing his longcoat off and curling it about her body. Drawing the side of it up to cover her face, he refocused himself as best he could. She was gone, but Quatre was not, not yet anyways. Eyes shining with tears unshed moved over the barren circus grounds. Only one real structure remained, the one that was nothing more than a mobile warehouse for all the circus' tents, supplies, and assorted packs they carried. "There. She was out of breath on the phone. That's the only place he could be if he's here."  
  
What went unsaid was that if he wasn't here... the places she could have dropped him dead or alive were endless. Pushing open the door to the temporary warehouse, all four of them stood in silent horror. All around them in what seemed to be endless rows were crates and boxes, nearly all of them big enough to hold the smallest Gundam pilot. It would take a week or more for all the Preventers to pry open lids and inspect each one, moreso for just the four of them.  
  
"Kami-sama," Duo whispered.  
  
-------------------  
  
Quatre's eyes opened slowly, taking in the darkness about him. Coldness assulted his body, feeling as if he were laying in ice instead of within some softness curled around him. Trying to sit up, his body refused to acknowledge the command, the chilling weakness gone bone deep. Even raising a hand was nearly too much, surprise filting through shock as he encountered wood above him. Fingernails rasped on the inside of his coffin, kitten weak and barely making a sound within. "Heero," he whispered, his voice having no power either. Hand falling back to his side in exhaustion, Quatre's unfocused eyes closed once more. He couldn't breathe in here, the air tasting stale and old. Consciousness flittered in and out of his mind, his slow breaths all that he could hear in the perfect darkness encasing him. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Heero's gaze moved over the crates stacked about them, the lines seeming endless. Despair gripped his heart as he tried to get his mind to accept the enormity of what he was looking at. Somewhere, buried in all of that, was his lover. Possibly. Waste the time looking and maybe find him or try to backtrack Catherine's trail and see if she had dumped him elsewhere? "Wufei, can we use a lifesign detector in here?" he asked, already knowing that answer.  
  
"No. Too much metal. It would just end up reading nothing or being full of static," Wufei whispered back, still in a brand of horrified awe at what he was seeing. "Even right on top of him, it might pass him over or give us so many false readings that we'd be ripping open boxes night and day."  
  
*This isn't happening* Heero's mind told him, the mantra running in a loop through his thoughts. Steps that were deceptively steady carried him forward as he began ripping the lids off of boxes and pushing them aside. A carefully folded and packed tent was shoved away as its container and it clattered to the ground. Next came a nearly full wardrobe of glittering outfits for the highwire artists. Another was full of hammers, mallets, tent stakes... the next sacks of feed for the birds... Behind him came the noise of the others doing the same, a frantic search made as wood splintered under crowbars and lids were tossed to the floor. Duo kept chanting Quatre's name as he jerked aside another box, grasping the one beneath it and pulling it out. Only Trowa hadn't moved.  
  
Hands clasped before him still, Trowa stood silent as his friends went into their frenzy. His thoughts were back with Catherine... falling back in time. His eyes slid closed, recalling the conversation, letting himself slide into a near trancelike state.  
  
"He's calling me."  
"No one's calling you."  
"I know. He's crying."  
"You want to go back? After all the pain you've been though you still want to return to the battle field?"  
"It seems, someone once told me that following my emotions."  
"No matter what I say you will still go. Baka yo. Because your stubbornness hasn't changed one bit."  
"I'll come back alive, neesian."  
" Honto ni baka da."  
  
Glints of green shone through Trowa's lashes as his eyes opened slowly. The warehouse about him as well as his fellow pilots had faded from what he saw, merely background noise, there and not there.   
  
*He's calling me*  
  
No, that wasn't precisely right, but he could still hear Quatre's voice. It was someone else he wanted, Heero probably, but he could hear it as clearly as he could hear his own heart thudding away in his chest... the heart that he had given long ago to the slender Arabian.  
  
*He's crying*  
  
Trowa moved forward, hands sliding along the crates without opening any. Even as Duo grabbed his shoulder and tried to shake him, he never focused on the others. If he did, he'd stop hearing that soft voice calling him forward. Wufei captured Duo's hands in his own, pulling him away from the Latino pilot with a soft shake of his head. All of them watched Trowa as he moved wraithlike among the debris, finally stopping before a pile that looked like all the others. He merely stood there for a few moments, unmoving and silent while Catherine's voice spoke to him one last time in a whisper from the past.  
  
*You want to go back? After all the pain you've been though you still want to return to the battle field?*  
  
"Hai..." Trowa murmured under his breath, not even realizing he had. Hands made strong by long battles with Heavyarm's controls shot forward, dragging one of the boxes out, pulling it carefully before cradling it within his arms. Setting it on the ground, he met Heero's eyes and stepped back, letting him be the one to pull the lid away.   
  
The Perfect Soldier barely blinked as he watched it all. He'd known long ago that Trowa and Quatre had some sort of bond to each other. It had taken awhile, but he'd gotten over his jealousy of it, accepted it as part of life. Nodding softly, he jammed the end of his crowbar under the nailed shut top, shoving his weight down as the nails let loose with a shriek of metal on wood. The other four pulled at it as soon as it was lifted enough, ripping it away to clatter hollowly to the floor. Heero swept away the layers of blanket, finally encountering chilled skin beneath it all. Lifting the Arabian into his arms, he let the others help tuck the blanket around them both, stifling his protest as Trowa somehow picked the both of them up and the mad rush for the car and the hospital began.  
  
The greatest moment he could remember was when the aquamarine eyes shaded by golden lashes opened and blinked up at him with a sleepy smile. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Quatre nearly bounced around the Christmas tree, throwing handfuls of rainbow glitter onto it. Heero had tried to explain to him over and over that Christmas trees didn't have glitter on them generally, only to be met with a pair of pouting blue eyes and a mournful 'Why not?'. There were things in this world that even the Perfect Soldier couldn't stand up to. So, for now, he sat in a comfortable chair before the fireplace, watching his own angel decorate the tree. The mix of bulbs, tinsel, snow, and now glitter that was being heaped on those branches worried him a bit if they could stand the strain. He wasn't going to get into how Quatre had somehow defied the laws of physics and space to pack that many gifts in that small of an area. A jumble of brightly wrapped presents (some in birthday wrapping instead of Christmas) were jammed helter-skelter beneath the weighed down tree.   
  
"But Wuuufffers! Turkey is much better when well done!" came Duo's wail from the kitchen.  
"Well done does not mean dry like sandpaper, and do not call me 'Wuffers'. My name is Wufei, you onna," was the calm reply.  
  
Heero restrained the grin that tried to surface, listening to what sounded like every utensil in the kitchen now being hurtled towards Wufei by an enraged Duo. The mix of Chinese and English curses barely fazed the blonde he was watching still decorating the tree. A garishly bright star was held between his lover's hands as Quatre kept studying the tower of evergreen, evidentially not sure how someone of his slight stature could get up there to put it atop. Resting his chin on his hand, Heero enjoyed the show for now. It was relaxing, a break from all the events of the past few weeks that had rushed past him.  
  
Quatre had been admitted to the hospital and kept overnight against his wishes. Once he'd been given a counteragent to the sedative Catherine had injected him with, every single Gundam pilot had the rare treat of listen to Quatre whine, shout, growl, threaten (well, a little), demand, and finally try to beg his way out of the hospital. He hated them and the weakness they made a person display in being in another's hands.... a secret he generally kept hidden. Duo had been howling with laughter until a nurse reminded him to be quiet after listening to Quatre wheedling his doctor into letting him go home by suggesting that Heero might do more than just glare at him.   
  
Catherine's funeral had been well attended and remembered. The events of her attempted kidnapping and murders were never brought to light by any of the five. As Wufei had put it, Justice had been done. There had been no need to drag her name or life through the dirt. Everything had been paid and broken even. Watching Trowa deliver the eulogy had been hard. Normally, Heero would have thought himself and Trowa the most stoic of all of them, but even he had seen the glitter of unshed tears in the other's eyes as the first shovelful of dirt thudded down on her casket.   
  
Then... life had returned to somewhat normal...  
  
"AAHHHH!" *thump*  
  
Coming out of his thoughts, Heero finally did grin at the sight of a faux snow Quatre, having fallen from his ladder finally, atop a real snow covered Trowa who had been carrying yet another armload of presents. Rising from his chair with a feline grace, he offered the two his hands. "Need help?"  
  
Trowa groaned dramatically. "Get Quatre off of me! He's been eating too many Twinkies again!"  
  
Quatre sputtered.  
  
"That's not what you said last night," Heero commented in a deadpan as he helped the blonde to his feet, neither his voice nor face showing any humour. He did make a good retreat back to his chair with Trowa in tow as the Arabian's face turned a bright red. Quatre might look like a cute fuzzy kitten, but he had a right hook that could drop a man if it landed. The two watched Quatre stomp off to the kitchen contentedly. They'd make it up to him tonight. With a lazy yawn, Heero leaned back in his chair, Trowa perching on the arm as he pulled off his jacket, scarf, and knitted cap that their lover insisted he wear.   
  
"I got them."  
  
Prussian blue eyes met those of jade as Trowa dug a small box out of his pocket, opening it slowly. Within rested three identical bands, each one made of white gold, yellow gold, and rose gold wound in a braid. The white was for Quatre, the yellow gold for Trowa, and the rose one for Heero... white for an angel, yellow for the sad clown who found happiness, and rose for the one who walked through blood. They were simple in design, but melded together as the three of them had become. After Catherine's death, Quatre and Heero hadn't left Trowa's side. By no means had it been easy. Everyone is jealous or wary of losing that which they love best, especially with two men like Trowa and Heero who had lost it all only to find everything in one person. For a time, Trowa had shut himself off again, the thing that had ruined his and Quatre's relationship before. This time, he hadn't been allowed to turn away when presented with the united front of two instead of one. For Heero, it had been him wanting to slip away, feeling as if he were intruding on something deep between Quatre and Trowa until both had sat him down and done the same. They had finally reached a point where all three were content together, both in bed and out.   
  
"Beautiful..." Heero murmured laying his hands over Trowa's storm chilled ones as they closed the box together. "Maybe these will get us back in his good graces."  
  
Trowa arched a brow. "Heero, if I didn't know any better, I would swear you just made a second joke in one evening. I am impressed. Perhaps there is hope for you yet."  
  
Pffting, the two set the star atop the tree and headed for the kitchen to help Quatre save Wufei from the still raving Duo and his Deadly Spatula. 


End file.
